


This Never Happened Before

by snow_queen16



Series: I WANNA TAKE YOU TO A GAY BAR GAY BAR GAY BAR [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bad Touch Trio, Bartenders, Closeted Character, M/M, Romano is a little shit, Workplace Relationship, boss spain, gay bar shenanigans, kind of a large age gap, neither of them really want to but it happens anyway, reluctant romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snow_queen16/pseuds/snow_queen16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lovino Vargas is a bit over his head when he applies as a bartender for the soon to open club Bad Touch. He honestly doesn't expect to land the job, much less draw such an interest from the owner/bar manager Antonio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this kicking around for a while on my computer, finally got around to posting it. I originally wanted to wait until I finished 'Calico Skies' before starting this one in earnest, but I just wanted to get this out lol. If anyone has read my other fic, this takes place about six months or so before, though maybe more. Time is a fluid thing.

                “Do you know how to make a zombie?” Lovino swallowed heavily, avoiding the all too green eyes of the Spanish interviewer. He felt completely out of his element- it had been a bad idea. Feli had encouraged him to apply everywhere, but this place hadn’t even opened yet and Lovino could feel the hipness oozing out of it. Bad Touch already had all the trappings of the hottest club in the city, and Lovino knew he was an idiot for evening applying. He should have stayed at the market- well, not that he’d had much of a choice there.

                “Tony, this fucker doesn’t know how to make a single drink!” a man with silvery blonde hair and strangely red eyes (contacts? Lovino wondered) said, snorting as he turned to the Spaniard. Francis Bonnefoy, a regular customer at the gallery where his brother worked, shook his head, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. The three of them stood behind the bar, while Lovino sat, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, on what would be the customer side when the club was open.

                “ _Tsk tsk_ , Gilbert. Watch your language in front of the prospective employees.” He turned to Lovino, smiling widely. “Ignore him, _oui_? Tell us what made you apply here.”

                “Er, well, I need a job.” Lovino didn’t bother trying to hide his cringe. Yeah, that was what they were looking for. Bonnefoy and the Spaniard laughed, the green eyes off the overly attractive man pulling at him more than he liked. Lovino felt his cheeks begin to warm. “Since I already fucked this up, my brother made me apply. I worked at a grocery store and I fucking hated it, so I quit. I’ve been looking for something different, something fun, so when Feli told me you were hiring, I put in the application. But sorry for wasting your time,” He stood, the bar stool scraping loudly across the floor.

                “Trust me, no one’s time was wasted.” the Spaniard –Tony- grinned lazily at him, leaning on the bar. Lovino felt his blush deepen as he met his eyes, caught off guard by how green they had become. The color reminded him of a forest in early summer, all the trees bright with new leaves.

                “W-what? I don’t have any experience! I don’t know how to make any drinks-“

                “You think working here would be fun, no?” Tony said, his words softened by the languidness of his accent, the sharp pronunciation of the rs making Lovino’s heart beat in a strange rhythm. What the fuck was this asshole’s deal?!

                “Yeah, so what?” he said, crossing his arms. Tony laughed.

                “So I’m offering you a job.”

                “What the fuck!” Gilbert turned to glare at him, rapping him hard on the shoulder. “Tony, he just said he has no experience! We can’t-“

                “Why not? We have plenty of people who know how to bartend- I’m the one who would be working him the most, no? I’m in charge of the bar, I have final say.”

                “He has a point, Gil. If Antonio wants to train him, it’s probably good to hire people who think it would be fun to work here.” Lovino’s eyes flicked back to the Spaniard. Antonio- the name did suit him. He _looked_ like the kind of asshole who would be named Antonio.

                “Fine! But this little shit is your responsibility.” Gilbert grumbled, jerking a thumb in his direction. Antonio smiled, slowly turning to face Lovino, and extended his hand.

                “Welcome aboard, Mr. Vargas.” Lovino nodded slowly, hesitantly slipping his fingers in the man’s large, tanned hand. It was pleasantly warm, and his grip was firm. He met his eyes all to easily, Lovino noted. He was too friendly, too warm, too nice. And way too fucking hot. Lovino swallowed heavily before he spoke.

                “Thanks,” he said as offhand as he possibly could. He was happy to end his job search, but he had a niggling doubt whether working at that club, for that man, was going to end well.

 

 

                “Tony, you can’t hire a guy just because you have a crush on him.” Gilbert said, waiting until the man in question had left. Antonio merely smiled.

                “He has enthusiasm.”

                “We need to have a staff as awesome as we are if this is going to work! Tony, is he awesome? Is he as awesome at bartending as I am at everything?”

                “Gilbert, what was the name of that cocktail waitress you hired? Irina?” Franics said, hiding a smirk. Gilbert flushed, and Antonio was amused to see his cheeks get nearly the same shade as eyes.

                “Oh, I remember her! Could you tell she was awesome at waiting tables at first sight?” Antonio said, doing his best not to burst into laughter when he caught Francis’s glance.

                “Er, see, that was-“

                “All I could see was her, ahem, large tracts of land, before you shouted ‘you’re hired!’” Francis said, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

                “Fine! I get one, Tony gets one, you might as well get one too.” Gilbert said huffily.

                “Get one what, _mon ami_?”

                “An eye-candy hire. Someone awesome to look at.”

                “I think Lovino has potential though! I didn’t want to hire him just because I think he’s attractive!” Antonio protested, feeling somewhat hurt. He’d caught his attention for admittedly shallow reasons, but there was something else about the man that intrigued him. Francis chuckled, shaking his head.

                “Tony, I could see you drooling.” Antonio blushed, shrugging. Had he really been that obvious? Lovino was attractive- attractive enough to be a distraction at work? He worried his lip, his mind already drifting to all the casual touches and flirtation one could get away with behind a bar. He’d worked as a bartender most of his adult life, and he’d be lying to himself if he tried to think he had never been tempted at work- or that he had never given into that temptation. He sighed inwardly, telling himself that Lovino would be different. He would have to be if he wanted to be a good boss.

                “I’ll keep my hands off.” he said reluctantly. “Not that I had any intention of doing otherwise, understand?” he said firmly, looking from Gilbert to Francis. The two exchanged glances and laughed.

 

 

*

 

 

                “I’m home,” Lovino called, though the way he crashed into the apartment made the announcement for him. He slammed the door behind himself, leaning on the door frame as he kicked off his shoes.

                “Brother, I made dinner! How’d the interview go?” Feliciano said, peeking out of the kitchen. Lovino shrugged, tossing his coat at the hook by the door. It fell to the ground almost immediately. He snorted, pretending he didn’t see, and walked to the kitchen, where Feliciano had already set the small table set on one side of the kitchen.

                “A candle, really?” Lovino said, sitting heavily, and nodded towards the fat white candle burning in a mason jar. Feliciano smiled, stirring a pot on the stove.

                “Yeah, when I started cutting up the tomatoes I had a good feeling so I thought a little celebration would be good. I-is it?”

                “I guess so. Some weirdo offered me a job,” he said grudgingly. He was happy, though it was always hard for him to show it. Lovino was a realist (though Feli and Grandpa Roma called him a cynic and a pessimist), and sometimes felt that too much excitement was dishonest.

                “Oh Lovi! I knew you’d get it! I’ll get a bottle of wine out too,” Feliciano said happily, jumping up and down like some small yappy dog. Lovino grunted, rolling his eyes. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was happy for the praise.

                “It’s not a big deal,” he scoffed. Feliciano clucked his tongue, setting a pair of glasses on the small table.

                “Of course it is! A bartender makes good money, especially at a place like Bad Touch.”

                “It hasn’t even opened yet, how do you know?” Lovino said. Feliciano smiled, taking a bottle from the wine rack next to the fridge. Lovino noted it was one of the more expensive bottles Grandpa Roma had given them and smiled to himself. He did deserve it.

                “There’s lots of buzz about it all over the place, even at the gallery. Francis Bonnefoy bought art for the club there!”

                “Yeah, you told me.” Lovino said, watching as his twin filled their glasses. “He bought on of your paintings, right?” Feliciano nodded eagerly.

                “He did! He said he liked it so much he was going to put it in his office!”

                “I’ll make sure it’s there when I go in. I’ll kick his ass if it’s not,” Lovino said. He swirled the wine in his glass, inhaling deeply before he took a sip. He couldn’t claim to be a wine snob, but Grandpa Roma had always made sure his grandsons were well educated. _Nothing impresses a lady more than a man who can choose a good wine_ , he’d told them. Not that he or Feli cared much for impressing ladies.

                “Lovi, you don’t need to do that! He’s your boss now, you can’t beat up your boss!” Feliciano said with a laugh, though Lovino could sense the undercurrent of worry in his voice.

                “I’m just trying to stick up for you!” Lovino said, scowling. “Anyway, they’re all weirdos.”

                “Ve, really?” Feliciano said, an innocent expression on his face. Lovino nodded, taking a longer, more appreciative drink of his wine. He’d have to ask Roma where he got this one the next time they had dinner, he thought.

                “Yeah really. You know what a weirdo Francis is. One of his weirdo friends had freaky red eyes –he was a jerkoff- and the other guy,” He let the sentence hang, unsure how to describe Antonio. “He was too friendly, smiled too much. He offered me the job even though I said I didn’t have any experience because I said it might be fun or something. Weirdo.” He left out the grossly poetic descriptions of his eyes he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. No way in hell he was saying anything like to Feli; he’d just get uncomfortable ideas. So what if he wanted to appreciate the man’s eyes? It wasn’t a fucking _crime_ to think they were pretty.

                “Antonio sounds like a good man. You better be nice Lovi, he gave you the job! To the nice smiley man who gave Lovi a job!” Feliciano grinned, raising his glass. Lovino rolled his eyes, but clinked his wineglass to his brother’s without argument.

 

 

                Antonio walked into his apartment with a sigh. He moved to the city nearly a year ago, and he was still living out of suitcases and takeout containers. There had been too much time spent at the club, at immigration, to worry about unpacking. Hopefully now that Bad Touch was almost open he would get a rest; or at the very least not be so damned tired all the time. It felt like he was running sunup to sundown and then some.

                Humming to himself, he shut and locked the door and contemplated ordering pizza or Chinese again. “Pizza,” he said aloud, smiling to himself as he thought of the Italian wannabe bartender he’d hired. Lovino Vargas. Antonio bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his surliness. That might come back to bite him down the line, but for now he would enjoy it, just as he took pleasure in the man’s cherry-tomato blushes. Lovino was an interesting guy- _kid_ , he told himself, a blush of his own staining his cheeks. At twenty two, he wasn’t exactly a kid any longer but he needed to emphasize the eleven year gap in their ages. Antonio was the adult, he was the boss, and he was . . . falling frightfully easily into a crush.

                Antonio had snuck out Lovino’s resume, and read it thoroughly on the train home. There wasn’t much there, mismatched years spent at a grocery store and a few small retail shops, a few semesters at a fairly good college, several literary awards from college and high school; the details barely covering two pages. “I wonder why he dropped out of school,” he muttered, tossing his messenger bag towards the couch, resisting the temptation to pull out Lovino’s resume again. He didn’t need to anyway, he’d already committed most of it to memory. He stopped, frowning, and rubbed his face with both hands. No no no! He needed to stop this before it got out of hand.

                “Work crushes never work out, Tonio, especially when you’re the boss,” Really, he was old enough to know better. Maybe once Bad Touch opened and everything was settled and running smoothly, he would go away. He’d been done nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe Bad Touch since Francis had come to him with the idea, and he needed a rest. Perhaps he’d explore the city some, or take a week and hibernate upstate somewhere in a cute b and b. Still humming, Antonio pulled out his phone, dialing the number to his favorite pizza place from memory.


	2. Chapter 2

                Lovino was in a crappy mood as he made his way to the nightclub. Rationally, he knew he had to have some kind of training before it opened, but he still wasn’t thrilled about killing a night there. So what if he didn’t have anything better to do? He had a sneaking suspicion that the ‘training’ was going to involve him and that Antonio bastard alone behind the bar. Maybe a small –microscopic, really- part of him was looking forward to it but that didn’t mean anything. Antonio _was_ a nice guy even if he smiled too much and was too friendly and had glassy green eyes like a cat that fascinated him. He might even think that he’d be a good boss. Like maybe he’d enjoy going to work or something.

                Lovino stopped short, staring awkwardly at the front of the building. Antonio has told him to go around back and let himself in when he got there. Still, he felt a bit awkward about it. Lovino grimaced, casting nervy glances to the left and right before dashing into the alley between Bad Touch and the place next door. He held his breath as he hurried towards the door, cursing when the handle refused to budge. He tugged at it for a good minute before he was satisfied that it was locked. Now what? He should call Antonio, but he hated talking on the phone. He wasn’t exactly sure what things his accent would do to his libido either- not that Lovino was into _men_ but Spanish accents were sexy regardless of gender. That left texting, but . . . Lovino frowned at the phone in his hand. They’d only exchanged a few messages but the bastard used more emojis than a twelve year old girl and no matter how many shots of espresso he’d done before heading out it was not enough to deal with that. Locked in indecision, he glared angrily at his phone.

                “Oh, hi Lovino! Sorry I’m late!” Antonio seemed to bounce out of nowhere behind him. Lovino screamed, his phone sent flying through the air as he threw his arms up in terror. Antonio laughed and blushing, Lovino heartily flipped him off.

                “You piece of shit bastard! Don’t sneak up on people!”

                “I’m really sorry! I didn’t think I’d startle you,” Antonio said, still chuckling as he pulled a keyring from his pocket. He brushed past Lovino to the door, his hand lingering on his shoulder. Lovino muttered violent Italian curses under his breath as he picked up the pieces of his phone, erasing every vaguely nice thing he’d ever thought about him. Antonio was _not_ nice, smiling that much was _not_ a little bit attractive, and his eyes were closer to the color of baby shit than a meadow in spring. “Are you coming?”

                “Yeah, yeah,” he said peevishly, but followed him inside. They walked through the dark (and okay, slightly creepy) hallway, Lovino trailing behind sullenly. He watched in silence as Antonio flipped on the lights, humming to himself as he pushed open the door to the main part of the club.

                “I was thinking I could show you around behind the back of the bar, and once you’re familiar with the seltzer gun and stuff, I’d have you practice pouring shots. That’s the one thing I liked about the man who trained me; he was kind of an asshole but he had me pouring shots until I could pour them even in my sleep! I made a drink menu with lots of fancy things on it, but I bet you anything we’ll still end up pouring more rum and Cokes than anything else, so it’s important you know how to properly pour a shot. Ehh, Lovi are you even listening to me?!” Antonio stopped short, tugging at Lovino’s sleeve.

                “I’m listening!” he barked, irritated that he’d been caught spacing out. It was an impressive place, he reluctantly admitted. Most of the house lights were off, but even in the half-light he could see the elegance the club radiated. When he’d been inside for interview, the stage/DJ booth in the far corner had been finished along with the dance floor, but none of the fancy little tables or booths had been set up. There was a small roped off lounge area kitty-corner to the bar that hadn’t been there before either- or at least, Lovino hadn’t noticed it. It was a nice place, he thought, and chewed his lip. What was he thinking? He couldn’t work there, he was so far out of touch with what was popular. He wasn’t the type of guy who would go to a nightclub, why did he think that he could work at one? He’d stick out like a sore thumb.

                “Is something bothering you?” Antonio’s gentle words snapped him back to reality, and Lovino couldn’t help his glare.

                “No.” he said, sounding firmer than he felt. Whatever joke was being played on him, he still needed the job. Most of Feli’s wages from the gallery went into paint and canvas and stupidly expensive brushes and despite his brother’s talent, it was a rare event when one of his paintings sold. Lovino had been the one to pay the rent and put food on the table, and his month of joblessness had bitten too deeply into their meager savings. If he quit before he even started, they’d have to ask Grandpa Roma for help with the rent again and Lovino was determined not to let that happen again. Sure, Grandpa had the money but it was the principle of the thing. He’d done more than enough after they’d been kicked out.

                “If you’re ready, let’s get started then!” Antonio said brightly, and lead him around the back of the bar.

 

 

                Antonio was pleased with himself- and Lovino, of course. He knew he had potential, despite Gil’s insistence that he was simply eye candy. He was short tempered and could swear like a sailor, but Antonio was impressed by how quickly Lovino –the _boy_ , Antonio corrected himself- had picked up the basics. He had a surprisingly quick memory.

                “Is this all we’re going to do?” Lovino grumbled, lining up another row of shot glasses.

                “Name the speed rack for me.” Antonio smiled languidly, leaning back on his elbows as he watched him pour. He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

                “Vodka, gin, rum, tequila, triple sec, whiskey, scotch, bourbon, brandy. I’ve been doing this for like an hour-“

                “Relax Lovi, you’ve barely been pouring for twenty minutes. Didn’t I tell you Fernando had me pouring for days before he let me touch a real bottle?” Antonio chuckled. “But if you’re bored we can move on. You’re doing very well.”

                “Of course I am.” Lovino said with a smirk, though he blushed lightly under the praise. Antonio closed his eyes, counting to ten to dispel the overload of cuteness that threatened to make him squeal. Not even an hour alone with him and he was already having a problem? He took a deep breath, reaching down to retrieve a notebook from his messenger bag. He dropped it on the bar beside the Lovino’s shot glasses.

                “This is a list of the specialty drinks we’ll serve, along with some recipes for other standard drinks you should know how to mix. I added in all the helpful pointers I could think of. We’ll go over it a little tonight, but I need you to take it home and study as much as you can _,_ _¿de acuerdo?_ ” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “There’s only a month until we open and you need to be ready! _Dios mio_ , _I_ need to be ready by then . . .”

                “Don’t worry bastard, I will be.” Lovino said with a smirk- which fell instantaneously from his face. “Shit, I didn’t meant to call you a bastard! I’m sorry, okay?!” His distress was adorable, and distilled a little bit of Antonio’s nerves.

                “You know what? You can call me bastard if you like,” he said, grinning suddenly. Lovino’s hazel eyes (more golden brown today than green, he noted) narrowed suspiciously.

                “What?”

                “You can call me bastard- if you let me call you _tomatecito_.” Antonio said, chuckling as angrily color filled Lovino’s cheeks.

                “Why the _fuck_ do you want to call me ‘little tomato’?”

                “Oh? I didn’t realize you spoke Spanish.” he said, impressed. He knew for certain Gil and Francis couldn’t speak Spanish (not that they’d be behind the bar much anyway), and he doubted if any of the bartenders he’d hired did either- it would be so much fun to whisper dirty things to him in Spanish at work. Only to tease a reaction out of him though, Antonio told himself.

                “Kind of. We spoke Italian at home growing up and I took Spanish in high school. I can understand most of it but my accent is shit.” Lovino shrugged, his cheeks a still a fierce red.

                “Feel free to try it out on me any time, _tomatecito!_ ” Antonio said, indulging himself in a long, sultry smirk as he looked Lovino up and down. A strangled noise escaped Lovino’s throat, followed by an explosive string of Spanish curses. Antonio laughed. “Hmm, you’re right, your accent is a little off-! Still, I’m sure we can find time to practice if you want to improve.”

                “You’re a bastard!” he said, his voice cracking imperceptibly. Antonio chuckled, nudging his shoulder.

                “And you’re a cute _tomatecito!_ But we need to start looking over drinks, _¿de acuerdo?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for any butchered Spanish; I took it in high school and remember a little but I can't lie, google did most of the work. And also; the title (This Never Happened Before) is also the title of a Paul McCartney song I greatly enjoy. I'm planning on stealing titles from Paul McCartney songs for all the fics in the series actually lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I'm bad at updates OTL

                Lovino was nervous. His fingers trembled as he toyed with his keys, absently staring out the window of the subway without focusing on anything. It felt like a date, but that was ridiculous. Lovino didn't date much, but the couple girls he'd been with hadn't elicited such a fluttery reaction. But a guy shouldn't do that to him. He was straight. He wasn't like Feli; guys didn't _do_ anything for him. If he appreciated a man's looks, that's only because his family was artistic. He knew how to appreciate beauty, that's all it was. Antonio was . . . He was so different. He gave off this dopey, sleepy eyed aura, but his eyes could turn and focus on him so sharply, a smirk dancing on his lips. It was enchanting.

                Lovino started, blushing heavily. What the hell was he thinking? This was just a quick practice session for work. So what if there was going to be alcohol involved? And he'd have to taste them and he was such a lightweight who the hell knew what would come out of his mouth- better not be anything about how pretty Antonio's eyes were. Lovino cursed heavily under his breath, furiously running his hands through his hair. He was a mess. This was not the frame of mind he wanted to be in when he was going to drink with Antonio.

                As much as he wanted to dress it up as work related, he knew it didn't quite fit. He was going to Antonio's apartment, where they'd be mixing and tasting drinks. Alone. It just _felt_ off to him. How many of the other bartenders did he have over like that? Would he even be thinking this kind of nonsense if Antonio was a chick? Of course not! Women never made him uneasy. Lovino scowled out the window, determinedly not thinking about what that said about him psychologically.

 

            Anxious, Lovino checked Antonio's text (twelve unnecessary emojis and all) for the umpteenth time. It said apartment 306, and there it was right in front of him. He didn't want to knock. He wanted to turn around and go home before Antonio realized he was there and avoid it all. Fucking prick, he was too nice! He was too fucking nice about helping him with work and Lovino couldn't refuse him. Resolute, he grimaced and raised his fist to knock. He faltered, pausing with his knuckles inches from the wood. A picture developed in his mind, him drunk off his ass after two measly drinks and Antonio howling with laughter at what a lightweight he was. No, Antonio wouldn't laugh at him. Maybe he'd smile, lean in close, his green eyes melting into his and-

                “Aha, I thought you might be out here, Lovi!” Antonio smiled warmly at him as he held the door open. “Come in and let's get started!” Lovino blushed furiously, sputtering as he followed him in.

                “I was just about to knock!” he insisted, even angrier with himself when he realized he'd been staring at Antonio's ass. It did look fantastic in those tight jeans he was wearing but that wasn't- why the hell was he looking at a man's ass for anyway?! “It's not like I was thinking about running away or anything, got it?” Antonio chuckled, giving him a brief once over.

                “Of course, _tomatecito.”_

                “Prick bastard.”

                “Cute little tomato.” Antonio said, grinning. Lovino scowled.

                “You’re just saying that to piss me off!” he said. Antonio looked at him, surprised, then chuckled.

                “Maybe.” He winked at him and Lovino inadvertently took a step back as he felt his cheeks flush.

                “F-flirting?! Is that what you’re doing?” he said, horrified and flattered. It made sense; the slow, searing looks Antonio would give him, calling him cute, the lingering touches on his shoulders and back . . . He couldn’t quite ignore the smug, pleased feeling it gave him, however. Man or not, Antonio was attractive. It was a stroke to his ego to think someone like that might be interested in him.

                “Ahhh, I’m sorry!” Antonio said, blushing profusely as he looked to the ground. He rubbed the back of his head as he chuckled, the sound marred by his embarrassment. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable _tomat_ \- Lovino. You’re just very cute and it’s been a while since I- ahh, _Dios mio_ , don’t listen to me! I promise at work I’ll behave, okay?”

                “You’re gay,” Lovino said flatly. Antonio gave him a puzzled look as he straightened.

                “I am. Does it bother you?”

                “Of course not!” Lovino said, glowering. “My brother is gay; I don’t give two shits about _you_. I’m not a fucking bigot! I was just shocked you were flirting with _me_.”

                “Aww, Lovi!” Antonio chuckled, smiling happily. “Have more self-confidence! You’re adorable.” Objectively, Lovino knew he was attractive. He had no trouble picking up girls when the mood struck him, and had plenty of girls hit on him. He’d heard all kinds of flattering remarks from women, all kinds of come ons. So why did this man and his lame but honest compliments make his chest feel so hot?

                “Thanks,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at Antonio. “Jesus fuck, did you just move in? There’s like a hundred boxes in here!”

                “I moved in a year ago but it looks like that still, huh?” Antonio said, crossing his arms across his chest with an awkward smile. “I’ve been too busy with the club to unpack much. Hopefully once we open I can spend more time here, but I’m not going to count on that for a while.”

                “Hmm,” he said, giving the apartment a final glance before looking back to Antonio. It was a nice place, even as bare as it was. Certainly bigger than his and Feli’s apartment, definitely in a better neighbourhood, and in a building that was not falling apart on the outside. But their apartment wasn’t as empty, as sterile, as Antonio’s was. How much time did he spend working? He certainly didn’t spend any time at home. “You must work hard. Doesn’t look like you’re here much.”

 

                Antonio couldn’t help but stare at Lovino as he glanced around his empty apartment, a begrudging look of respect on his face. He was so cute Antonio was sure he’d explode if he didn’t close the distance between them and smoosh his cheeks together and then- Antonio took a deep breath. _Down boy_ , he thought, forcing out a laugh as he turned towards his small kitchen. Lovino wasn’t even gay so there was no use getting excited.

                “I’m not here much, you’re right!” he said quickly. “There’s a lot to do opening a nightclub, not to mention immigration-! _Dios mio_ , what a headache that was!” Antonio ignored Lovino (or tried to) as he set out glasses and straightened the bottles set up along the center island that separated the kitchen and the living room.

                “Immigration?” Lovino raised an eyebrow at him, standing awkwardly on the opposite side.

                “ _Sí_ , I was living in London before Gilbert convinced Francis and me to move here. Getting a visa was harder than it should have been, even with Gil as my sponsor.”

                “What, did you get stuck on the no-fly list or something?”

                “Ahh, no! Something stupider, believe me.” Antonio paused, colour rising to his cheeks as he let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I was kicked out when I was sixteen and kind of . . . snuck into England. I eventually got citizenship, but I guess it wasn’t hard to figure out I came in illegally.”

                “Why the hell would you do that?” Lovino said, though his tone was less surly and more curious than it had been.

                “Hmm, well, I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought about going to Paris, but my English was better than my French, so-!” Antonio laughed, shrugging. “I wanted to go somewhere fun and exciting, find a better life for myself I suppose.”

                “Why’d you get kicked out?”

                “That is . . . My parents are good Catholics. When they caught me kissing a boy- well, it was a huge fight and I lost.”

                “Fuck them.” Lovino said, and Antonio was surprised at the amount of venom in his voice. “My parents were good Catholics too, the bastards. Feliciano was determined to tell them he was gay, though I knew it would be a bad idea. It was.”

                “They kicked you both out?” Antonio said, sympathetic. Lovino scowled, nodding.

                “I was encouraging Feli’s life of sin or some bullshit. I couldn’t’ve lived with them after that anyway.” He scowled, glaring at his hands that had balled into fists.

                “It’s difficult when your parents are the ones acting like children.” Antonio said softly, resisting the urge to reach across and rub his shoulder. He was touched by Lovino’s confidence; he’d thought for sure he’d have to be pretty damn drunk to talk about anything personal.

                “Yeah, it’s fucking shitty.” Lovino agreed with a curt nod. “Now are we going to pour some fucking drinks or stand around making each other cry?”

                “ _Sí, sí_.” Antonio laughed, pushing forward the bottles. “You studied that notebook I gave you, right? Name our three signature drinks.”

                “The Bad touch trio,” Lovino sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, obviously unimpressed with his creative naming skills. Antonio didn’t mind, however. Little things like that never bothered him, especially since he knew he wasn’t the best at thinking of clever names. “The Francis, the Gilbert, and the Antonio.”

                “Good! What’s in the Francis?”

                “A shot of Delord Bas Armagnac, a shot of Jameson, half a shot of apricot liquor. Shake, pour, top with bitters and tonic water.”

                “How much tonic water?” Antonio said.

                “Like a little bit? A squirt or something.”

                “Very good! Now make me one.” Lovino nodded, a determined look on his face as he grabbed the shaker. His form was good, Antonio mused, watching as he took the bottles. He wore his usual scowl as he worked, though Antonio noted the slight differences in his face when he was concentrating than when he was simply annoyed. It probably wasn’t a good thing, was it? Already he could feel the tendrils of infatuation brushing his cheeks. It was so easy for him to fall in and out of love, was it worth the effort to try and resist? They worked together, but that had never stopped him before- usually to his disadvantage. And yes, Lovi was quite a bit younger than he was, but that didn’t matter if it was just an unrequited crush. He was also straight, which killed his interest much more than an age gap. Or it should, Antonio, thought, sighing.

                “Did I do it wrong?” Lovino said, snapping him back to reality.

                “Hmm? Oh! No, no, you looked good making it! Let’s give it a taste,” Antonio said, hurriedly taking the glass and sipping it. “Not bad at all for your first time! I think you poured too much apricot though. Here, you try.”

                “Er, do I have to?” Lovino said, highly uncomfortable as he looked at the glass. Antonio chuckled.

                “You need to learn to recognize the way a drink is supposed to taste! Sorry if you don’t like sharing glasses but-“

                “I don’t care about that.” Lovino snapped, his cheeks a bright red as he snatched it out of Antonio’s hand. “I- I don’t drink hard liquor much, that’s it!”

                “Ohhh, _tomatecito_ , you’re a lightweight? That’s fine, you don’t need to swallow. Just swish it around your mouth a bit so you get the taste, then you can spit.” Antonio smiled placidly at him, sliding an empty cup forward. Lovino sputtered, his blush even more pronounced as he swore. That much of a reaction for one little double entendre? He was so much fun!

                “I can fucking swa- I can drink it!” he said, and determinedly took a hefty drink. Antonio bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to stop himself from laughing.

                “Make sure you taste it, _tomatecito!_ I’ll make it the right way, and I want you to try that one too.” Antonio said brightly. “Then you’ll make it again, until you get it perfect!”

                “Slave driver.” Lovino muttered, wiping his mouth as he set down the glass. Antonio ignored the flip of desire in the pit of his stomach, determined pushing the image of Lovino wiping something else out of his mind.

                “Ehh, I am not! I am a very laidback boss, _¿de acuerdo?_ These drinks are our specialty, you have to make them right! If you screw up a Cosmo or a tequila sunrise it’s bad but you have to make the Bad Touch trio perfect every time!”

                “Yeah, yeah.” Lovino waved him off, but watched him silently. “So, uh, will I have to keep remaking the other ones too? If I don’t get them right I mean.”

                “Of course you will!” Antonio grinned, and handed the finished Francis to Lovino with a wink. “Especially the Antonio- it’s the best one.”

               

 

                “Can you taste the different flavors mingling on your tongue?” Antonio said, holding his glass to the light. It was pretty tasty, Lovino thought, but all the straight alcohol was going straight to his head. He couldn’t distinguish taste as well as Antonio did when he was sober, much less after a few drinks. Lovino wouldn’t say he was drunk, but testing and perfecting the Francis alone had left him more than a little drunk. The Gilbert martini had been worse; a double shot of lemon vodka, a shot of goldwasser, and a shot of dry vermouth. Thankfully, he’d gotten that one right after only a couple tries.

                “Let me see,” Lovino said, reaching out to take the glass. He nearly dropped it when their fingers brushed, but thankfully kept his cool otherwise before taking a long sip. “It tastes fruity. I think I like this one best,”

                “I knew the Antonio would be your favourite!” He grinned. “I almost wanted to do something with sangria for my drink, but I saw the bottle of Licor 43 while I was playing around and I had to try that.”

                “I like sangria. Wine is good,” he said, then took a longer sip of the Antonio. “I can drink wine all night and not get drunk! It’s so much better.”

                “Starting to feel it, hmm? We can always stop for tonight.”

                “I’m not drunk!” Lovino insisted, scowling as he took another drink. “I’m just feeling a little . . . warm. It’s warm in here,” He put down the glass, now significantly emptier, and eagerly unzipped his hoodie.

                “Lovi, if you’re getting tipsy we can stop!” Antonio said, and Lovino was surprised by the way he blushed. He snickered, pretending to take off his t shirt before flipping him off.

                “I’m not going to strip for you, _gnoccho_.”

                “I wouldn’t expect you to, _tomatecito_ , that’s why I was surprised.” Antonio paused, reclaiming the remnants of the drink and finishing it off. “But if we’re done here, you’ll be heading home, no?”

                “Trying to get rid of me already?” Lovino said. He tried to come off as if he was joking, but the traces of insecurity were probably obvious. Lovino cringed at the thought.

                “Of course not, Lovi! But I think you did good enough for tonight. I don’t want you to get overworked before the club even opens!” Antonio offered him an easy smile, giving him a settled, reassured feeling.

                “You’re too nice.” he said, the words out of his mouth before he could properly think.

                “Is that a compliment?”

                “If you want it to be, sure.” Lovino said, embarrassed, and snatched up his hoodie. “Thanks. For helping me tonight I mean.”

                “It’s no problem! I want you to be the best bartender you can be, Lovi. Text me if you want to stop by and practice again before we open, hmm? I can’t promise I’ll be free, but if I’m not busy I’d be more than happy to have you come by.” Antonio said. Lovino shrugged, unwilling to show the other man how the idea enticed him.

                “Yeah, I might.” he said as casually as he could. Without another look in his direction, Lovino headed for the door. It was the alcohol, he told himself. That was the only reason he was so aware of Antonio tonight, why he was so excited at the prospect of spending more time with him. There definitely wasn’t anything else to it, not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gnoccha- according to sources online, a vulgar but appreciative term for a woman. I'm guessing along the lines of 'sexy bitch'? I had Lovi call Antonio 'gnoccho' because I wanted something flirtatious but vulgar, and there weren't a lot of options. I read that it's not often used for men, but I guess it might be sometimes? Regardless, feel free to read 'gnoccho' as 'sexy bastard'.


End file.
